


Memoirs of the Office

by hilali



Category: Memoirs of the Mausoleum Series - K. L. Somniate
Genre: Probably ooc, because i have no confidence, mockumentary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 12:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13612956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hilali/pseuds/hilali
Summary: The Revs and Roman are college students, working “part-time” for Branson, head director of MOTM. Everything’s fine, really, it helps with tuition, but then Branson enlists them for a documentary.





	Memoirs of the Office

**Author's Note:**

> You know what I love about AU’s? I can give Ten the happiness he deserves, bb.

“Does everybody understand? I only called for this meeting because it’s of the upmost importance that you’re all on your best behavior,” Branson said.

Seven covered her mouth so no one could see her straining smile.

“The documentary crew should be here at about ten o’clock. I won’t be here by then, so I trust that you’ll take care of it, Three?”

Three nodded, flipping through the packet. “I just have one question. What exactly are they here for?” She peered over to read a segment. “It says…”

“Ignore what it says. It’s only baseless jargon. Only know that they will be asking questions and recording what you all do. Again, remain on your best behavior. We can’t have them choosing our competitors.”

Branson stared at them for a few more seconds. “Any other questions? No? Well, I’ll be off then. Two.”

Two left the room with Branson, and after two minutes, he dismissed them.

-

The office never bustled with much sound. Sometimes when a fight would break out, but most of the time it was a heavy silence.

Everyone sat next to the person closest to them in Branson’s order. One and Two were in a separate room near the back, having their own mini-offices. Three worked so hard that Branson had people rearrange one for her. Four worked in close proximity to her.

Then the main room had Five and Six in one corner, Seven and Eight near the meeting room, and Nine and Ten close to the receptionist desk, where Eleven worked.

It was a small workplace. The only time there would be a lot of chatter was during lunch.

Three tapped her pen against the sheets repeatedly.

Exactly _what_ would they ask?

She read over the possible questions she came up with.

Why a documentary on a small branch of Branson’s company?

Yes, it was… _interesting_ due to who exactly worked there and why, but…a _documentary?_

“Don’t think about it too hard.”

Three stared at Two, who was drinking something. “Aren’t you supposed to be working on those files I gave you?”

“Three...c’mon. Working? You know we don’t work.”

Three scowled. “I do.”

“And that’s honestly impressive. No one here works. It’s all pretend. Like a couple of children on take your child to work day. It’s all fluff.”

“Okay,” Three returned her gaze to her questions, “can you go? I’m actually _working._ ”

“Alright. You want anything to drink?”

-

“Wow, that’s crazy!” Roman said, ignoring his wrong salad order.

“I know, right? A _documentary._ What is this _Parks and—_ ”

“Seven.”

Seven stared at Ten. He shook his head.

“Anyway!” Seven fiddled with the coffee machine. “I don’t know what they’re even gonna do, honestly. If we’re not _working,_ ” she air quoted with one hand, “then we’re just eating shit, or doing homework. How are they gonna make that interesting?”

She placed her mug beneath the machine. Pressed the button to start.

“Honestly, they’re gonna stay for a day and probably fall asleep on the job. Maybe throw a camera just to get some reaction. I dunno. Seems boring—unless the point is to be educational or some shit like that, but then why this branch? We’re the least informative ones.”

“I can’t believe she messed up my salad,” Roman lamented, softly stabbing at the lettuce.

“You want some of my lunch?” Ten asked.

Roman stared at his ordered lunch. It was a simple sandwich. “…”

Ten cut it in half. “Here, take it—”

“No, no! I’m fine, I’m fine.” Roman stabbed his salad more forcefully and took a bite.

“This coffee machine is getting old,” Seven commented as she took her mug out. She opened a cabinet and searched for her favorite flavoring packet. “I swear we run out of things way too fast.”

“Um…back to the documentary thing. You have a point there. I mean, if they wanted actual clerical work, they’d go to my branch, right?”

“Jealous?”

Roman flushed. “No! Oh god no! I don’t need cameras in my face.”

“Yeah. If you’re this clumsy without them, I can’t imagine what you would do with them.”

“It’s probably because we’re Branson’s favorites,” Ten muttered.

“Favorites,” Seven repeated with air quotes.

“Is that your thing now?” Ten asked.

“Perhaps.” Seven stirred her coffee. “Anyway, yeah you’re probably right. Branson, head of MOTM, offering ten college students an opportunity to work at one of his branches? I’m not surprised if they picked him just because that sounds ridiculous.”

“I kinda wish I could’ve been picked.” Roman shrugged. “This looks like fun—”

Seven laughed. “Fun? Are you okay? You’ve been here more than twenty minutes at a time right? This job is fucking shit. We’re given some bland ass tasks and sometimes we don’t even do them. We just come here because we need the hours.” Seven sipped her coffee. “Does it still sound like fun?”

“Doesn’t it have a lot of benefits though?”

“Yeah, that’s why we stay. If not, my ass would’ve been out that door in a second. It’s so _boring,_ but hey,” she drank some more, “it’s on a scholarship, _and_ it’s impressive on a résumé.”

Seven caught something out the window. “Uh-oh.”

“What?”

“Three left. That means the crew is here.”

“They’re late,” Ten said.

“Wow…This coffee was not a good idea.” Seven grabbed her stuff from the table and left the room.

“What do I do?” Roman asked, reaching for his bag.

“Eat your salad.”

-

Three flung the door open. “They’re here!” she announced, half a whisper, half a yell.

“Are any of them hot?” Five asked.

Two shared a knowing look with her.

“Very funny.” Three tapped the receptionist desk, waiting for the crew to arrive. “Remember, best behavior.”

Four snickered.

“Nine. Nine, seriously? Wake up!” Three grabbed a stray pencil.

“Oh my god, _please_ don’t throw that,” Five said. “It’s gonna ricochet and probably hit me in the eye.”

“I wasn’t going to throw it. Wake him up.”

Seven rolled over to Nine’s desk and shook him awake. “I’m so sorry.”

Nine stretched. “Are we leaving?”

“I wish!” Five said.

“Two, where’s One?” Three asked.

“In the back.”

“Tell her to come over here.” Two didn’t move. “Where’s Eight?”

“Hopefully missing,” Seven said as she rolled back to her desk.

A couple of men with cameras entered the office space. Three immediately went rigid.

“Hello,” Eleven greeted. “Please sign in.”

Three threw her a look.

“Kidding,” she mouthed.

“Hello, we’re here from Res Documentaries. Are you Three?” one of the men asked.

“Yes. Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said as she extended her hand.

The man shook her hand and looked around the room. “Well, why don’t we get started? The cameras are already rolling.”

“Oh…Do I…?”

“Start by introducing everyone.”

Three nodded. “Hello. My name is Three. I am one of the college students here on Branson’s Memoraic scholarship—”

“Is that what it’s called?” Seven mouthed to Two, who shrugged.

“Over here is our receptionist: Eleven.”

The girl waved. The phone suddenly rang and everyone looked at her expectantly.

“I’m on my break.”

Three gave her a strained look.

“I’m kidding!” Eleven picked up the phone. “Hello, you’ve reached the office of MOTM’s west branch, how may I assist you?” She winked at the cameras.

“Over here is Nine,” Three hurriedly continued. The cameras focused on her while one remained on Eleven.

Nine nodded to the cameras, not making any effort to pretend to work.

The camera panned to Seven, who was laughing at something with Two.

“Seven!”

“What? Oh.” She waved. “Hey there.”

“Over there is Two. Five and Six are in that corner. And there’s Four.”

-

From within the lunchroom, Roman peeked from the window. “Do you think I should just come out?”

Ten swallowed some of his sandwich. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Roman threw himself to the wall. “Holy shit!” he whispered. “I think one of them saw me!”

-

“Where’re the rest? We were told there were eleven students,” the main man said.

“That’s a good question,” Three said under her breath.

“Ten’s having lunch,” Seven reported. “One is in the back. And, _hopefully,_ Eight’s dead—”

“Seven.”

“I thought we were supposed to be honest.”

“We’re supposed to be professional,” Three said.

“Branson said best behavior.”

“Which implies professionalism.”

Seven shared a look with Two.

“Follow me please,” Three said, walking over to the lunchroom.  

-

“Shit, she’s coming!” Roman cried.

“Just sit down and finish your salad.”

Roman slammed his butt on the chair. He grabbed his fork and sent some lettuce flying.

Three walked in. “Oh. Roman.” She grimaced at the scattered lettuce on the ground.

Roman nervously smiled. “Hi…”

Three ignored him. “This is Ten.”

The camera zoomed on Ten’s scowl. “I’m eating.”

“This’ll only take a minute.”

Roman stared at his salad, trying to ignore Three’s short tour of the lunchroom.

Ten finally finished his sandwich. He picked up his garbage and threw it out.

“Let’s go,” he said as he grabbed his orange juice. Roman hurriedly picked up his salad bowl.

When they left, the main man asked who Roman was.

“An intern that works in the other office. He’s friends with Ten and Seven, so he comes here sometimes.”

“Is the other office on the same scholarship?”

“Not exactly. Branson gives out different scholarships. We have the quote-on-quote _elite_ one. I should mention: Eleven doesn’t have our scholarship. She’s just in our office because there wasn’t any space left in the other one.”

Three gave the room a brief look. “Let’s keep going.”

-

Roman rushed out the room and came to a complete stop when he saw another cameraman.

“Oh my god, they’re everywhere!” he whispered to Ten.

“Hey, Ten,” Five greeted.

Ten sipped his orange juice as he sat down on his desk.

“Hey, Ten,” Nine greeted.

“Hi, Nine.”

The camera zoomed on Five’s scowl.

“I’ll just go,” Roman said.

“Bye, Rayman!” Seven said.

“I’ll see you at four,” Roman told Ten, who nodded and gave him a ghost of a smile.

When the cameraman neared Ten, his face immediately deflated. He turned to his papers and began writing.

Nine rested his head on the desk once more.

Three exited the lunchroom. “Nine, head up,” she said as she passed his desk.

Nine gave the cameraman a tired thumbs-up.

-

“Back here is where I work, along with One and Two.”

Four followed them inside.

“Oh, and Four.”

“Damn right.” Four went back to the other room.

The camera panned to One, who was doing her homework.

“That’s One.”

The camera zoomed on One’s blank face.

Two purposefully walked in front of it as an excuse to grab something from her desk.

“And…that’s about all we have here. The meeting room is just—”

The door swung open—hard enough that it hit the wall.

Eight strolled in.

The smell of smoke enveloped the room.

“Dammit,” Seven said, fanning herself with a folder. “He’s not dead.”

“Oh god,” Three muttered under her breath.

Eight stopped in his tracks when he saw all the cameras.

“That’s Eight,” Three introduced, hoping he would sit down and not say anything.

“No. That’s a disappointment,” Two said.

“Fuck you!” Eight yelled.

“I’ll pass. I’d rather fuck Four than you.”

“Don’t bring me into this shit,” Four said.

“Can you all not curse?” Three asked.

“Are we allowed to curse?” Seven asked.

The cameraman approved.

“Oh thank fucking god,” Seven whispered.

“Remember what Branson said? _Professionalism._ Just because we can doesn’t mean we should.”

“I can’t go every day in this hell hole with a filter. I’ll die!” Five said.

“No you won’t.”

Five shrugged. “Yeah, well…”

Nine fell back asleep.

“Nine!”

Nine woke up.

One appeared from the back. Her face twisted in a grimace as she closed the door.

“Look what you made her do. You smell like shit,” Two said.

“ _Her?_ ” Eight said.

Two laughed. “…Oh, if you fucking go there, you’ll smell far worse than you already do.”

“Is that possible?” Seven and Five said at the same time.

“Oh, hey!” Seven made a high-five gesture.

“We’re not friends,” Five said.

“Alright.”

“Can all of you _please_ shut the hell up!?”

Everyone stared at Three.

“Behave! Literally what Branson said. Can you all just _do_ that?”

“No,” Four said from the back.

“What the fuck is going on?” Eight asked.

“I guess all that smoking really does affect your tiny brain,” Seven said. “Don’t you remember this morning? This is the documentary crew.”

Eight scoffed at the cameras. “Fucking stupid.” He walked over to the empty lunch room.

“Eight, can you sign in?” Eleven asked.

He slammed the door.

“Okay.”

Three straightened up. “I apologize about him, he’s…”

“A disappointment,” Two repeated.

“Yes, Two, thank you for that.”

“Just ignore him. Oh! Blur him out whenever he’s on-screen,” Seven suggested.

“It’s only right. Also, muffle his voice,” Two added.

“If only that could actually be an option,” Five said.

Three waited for any other additional comments. “…That’s all for the tour. It’s a small office space.”

“Now we would like to conduct some private interviews,” the main man said.

Three cleared her throat. “So soon?”

“Yes. Which room could we use for that?”

“The meeting room,” Two said.

“Perfect. Who would like to go first?”

-

_Interviews commenced._

-

_“Do you enjoy working here?”_

-

“Pays for a good portion of my tuition, so I’m gonna say yes,” Seven said.

-

“More or less,” Ten said.

-

“It’s okay,” Nine said.

-

“Helps with my résumé. The Harold’s company has a lot of different connections,” Six said.

-

“Oh yeah definitely, are you kidding? I mean…it’s kinda unnecessary, ‘cause I have a lot already, but the benefits are worth it,” Five said.

-

“Gives me a shit ton of money, but uh…I don’t really _like_ working here. Kinda boring,” Four said.

-

“Fuck no,” Eight said.

-

“This is kind of the dream job if you think about it. Pays for most of your tuition, looks good on paper, and you barely have to do work,” Two said. “I love it here.”

-

“It’s fine,” One said. “A bit tedious, but I’m grateful.”

-

_“Can you explain how the number system works?”_

-

“Honestly…I don’t know,” Nine said. “I’m sure Three knows though.”

-

“I think it’s because of how much shit we’ve done. Community service, job history…stuff like that,” Seven said.

-

“I don’t fucking know, to be honest with you,” Four said.

-

“I think it’s based on community service,” Five said. “That’s the only way I can explain why I’m all the way up here, ‘cause I’m in a lot of clubs, but my grades aren’t like…fucking straight A’s, you know.”

-

“We’re ordered through who has the most accomplishments, community service hours. Clubs, grades, GPA,” Three said.

-

“Me? My grades are alright. Between you and me, I have some history with Branson. I’m not saying that’s why I’m number two, but I’d say that’s why I’m a bit higher than Three,” Two said.

-

“It’s all fucking favoritism,” Eight said.

-

_“Who’s your favorite coworker?”_

-

“Ten,” Seven said.

-

“Five,” Nine said. “She’s chill.”

-

“TEN. Oh god, Ten!” Five smiled. “Ten.”

-

“One,” Two said. “Though…I have a kind of…soft spot for Six.”

-

“No one,” Six immediately said.

-

“This branch, correct?” One asked. “Then, Two.”

-

“My favorite?” Three asked. “…I guess Seven, or One, since they’re the most cooperative.”

-

“Everyone here’s shit,” Eight said.

-

“Seven,” Ten said.

“You won the popularity poll! How does that make you feel?”

Ten stared into the camera.

-

_“Are there any relationships in the workplace?”_

-

Seven laughed.

-

Nine stretched. “I don’t think so?”

-

“I dunno. You mean us—with each other? Yeah I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Four said.

-

“None of my business,” Three said.

-

“I don’t know,” One said.

-

Eight scoffed. “There’s probably a lot of cock-sucking going on with those two f—”

-

“Ask Two,” Six said.

-

“I wish! This place is so fucking dry. The only action around here is Two and his dick,” Five said. “I wouldn’t mind being with Ten though.”

-

Ten grimaced. “I don’t know or care.”

-

Two smirked and shrugged.

-

_“Would you recommend this scholarship to a student?”_

-

“Hell yeah!” Seven said.

-

“If you don’t mind the work. Go for it,” Nine said.

-

Ten nodded.

-

“Eh,” Eight said.

-

“A wonderful opportunity. Do it if you can,” Three said.

-

One nodded.

-

Four shrugged. “I mean…if you think it’ll help you, then do it. But if you want something that’s not fucking boring, then don’t.”

-

“I recommend it,” Six said.

-

“In this economy? Yeah,” Five said.

-

“It has my grandiose stamp of approval,” Two said.

-

_“Why are you all referred to by number? Does it bother you?”_

-

“I don’t really like my name, so I don’t mind,” Five said.

-

“Only Two and Roman call me by my real name,” One said.

-

“I’m indifferent to it,” Three said. “Branson wants it to be that way. I’m just following his rules.”

-

Seven shrugged. “It’s fine. Seven’s a cool name.”

-

“Except for One, no one here has reached the friendship level required to unlock my real name,” Two said.

-

“It’s the Harold’s wish,” Six said.

-

“I don’t get it, but whatever,” Four said.

-

Nine shrugged. “Names are pretty important, y’know? But I’m not gonna complain about it.”

-

“It doesn’t bother me,” Ten said.

-

_Interviews over._

-

“Poor Nine,” Five said from the printer. “He has to stay awake now, and actually _work_ now—wait—”

Five called out to Two, who was Snapchatting Six. “Hey!”

“Hm?”

“Do we actually have to do work now?”

“I doubt it.”

“Yes.” Three exited the meeting room, done with her interview. “Yes, we do. Listen, we all made a bad first impression. We need to show professionalism or we’re getting canned.”

“What does that even _mean_ , Three?” Five asked. “We’re just supposed to sit down and pretend to work? That’s boring! If anything, they’ll leave because of how _boring_ we are.”

“It’s not about entertainment! If it was, then why would they choose our branch?”

“Because we’re a colorful bunch,” Two said.

“Please. The only thing that ever happens here that’s close to _entertaining_ is when Seven and Eight fight each other.”

“Then let’s make ‘em fight!” Five said. “Fight! Fight! Fight—”

“That wasn’t an invitation!”

“ _I’ll_ fight!”

“Get back to printing.”

Five shuffled the papers. “All I’m sayin’ is—we gotta make it interesting, or they’re gonna leave, then Branson’s gonna have our heads.”

Three thought it over.

Seven put down her phone. “She’s right, you know. I was just talking it over with Ten—why would they choose us? If they really wanted a documentary on eleven college students eating shit for six hours, then they would’ve chosen Dominic’s branch or something.”

“I’m just asking to be sure,” Nine said, “but you guys realize there’s a cameraman right there, right?”

Everyone’s heads turned toward the lone cameraman. He was right by the receptionist desk.

“Nine…”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell us he was right there?”

“I thought you guys knew.”

“Smile for the cameras, babes. This is how it’s gonna be now. Like Branson said, they’re filming everything.” Two stared into the camera and winked.

-

“I’m leaving to talk to Branson. You’re coming with me,” Three told Two, who was on Tinder. “Get off that app before they see you.”

“Oh they’ve already seen me. Also, why would I go with you? I’m on my break.”

“No you’re not.”

“…”

“We all know you and Branson are close. You’re coming with me.”

Two sighed and looked up at Three. “I should stay and take care of the kids.”

“I don’t trust you with the kids _._ One will be in charge.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“No.”

“That’s fair.” He stood up. “Alright, kids, behave while mom and dad go out to talk to the landlord.”

“Nine, head up.”

Nine raised his head and watched them both leave, then went back to sleep.

Five was brushing up on her makeup, Seven went over her homework, Nine slept, and Eight scrolled through his phone. The only ones working were Six and Ten.

Five’s phone suddenly beeped. She frowned at the notification. The camera zoomed on her as she read the email she had just gotten.

“Uuuuuh, Seven?”

“Yeah?” Seven’s eyes stayed on her textbook.

“Did you email Rodell about the Somnus, uh… _Clerical Issued_ file?”

Seven frowned. “Yeah?”

“Apparently, Veronica never received it.”

Seven finally turned. “What? But I sent it to…” She slowly faced forward. “Oh…”

Eight didn’t look up from his phone.

“Hey, fuckdick.”

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Did you not forward the email to Rodell like you were supposed to?”

“I wasn’t _supposed_ to do shit.”

“Yes you were!” Seven placed her hand on her forehead. “Oh my god. He literally didn’t send the email.”

“What email was it?” Ten asked.

“To Rodell—to Veronica! We’re supposed to send her the credit files on the Somnus every month, and fuckcunt over here _didn’t._ ”

“Shut the fuck up—that shit ain’t my job.”

“Bitch, you were the one with the information this time around! That’s _your_ responsibility! Why _else_ would I send it to you? For fun?”

“Imbeciles,” Six muttered.

“What are we gonna do now?” Five asked. “It’s too late, right?”

“Considering it was due last month, _yeah_ it’s too fucking late.” Seven slammed the mouse on the pad, using it to see what she could do.

“Just explain what happened. There was a clerical error. Say Eight never got the email,” Ten suggested.

“Yeah but the fucking issue with that is I was supposed to send the email in the first place, but I’m not allowed the information Eight has on that client. For fuck’s sake…”

“Yeah, honestly, just lie,” Five said.

“You guys are dumb as shit,” Four said suddenly, making his appearance from the printer known. “You’re all being recorded, if you forgot. By the way, the printer’s busted again.” He slammed his fist on it.

Five began twirling her hair. “Who cares? It’s not like it matters—”

“It _does._ Branson’s gonna have my ass.”

Eight scoffed.

Seven glared. “You couldn’t have done just _one_ fucking thing, could you?”

“Not my problem you couldn’t do your damn job.”

“Oh fuck you! I told you to just attach _one_ fucking file, and you couldn’t even do _that!_ You’re fucking useless!”

“Seven…” Ten looked at her warily. They were too close to each other, with two mildly expensive computers in between.

“Are you fucking deaf, cunt? It’s not my job and it ain’t my fucking problem either—”

“Bullshit!”

From inside the other room, One rubbed her temples as she heard the muffled sounds of Seven and Eight, followed by something hitting glass.

-

Roman texted his group chat with Ten and Seven about studying over at his house, or the college library, whichever they prefer—

“Roman!”

Roman almost dropped his phone. Harley ran over to him, her pigtails bouncing.

“Oh hi,” Roman said with a small wave.

“Hey! I see the cameramen are following you too.”

“What?” Roman went cold as his eyes found the cameraman.

“Damn, man, how could you not notice?”

“I-I—how was I supposed to know they were gonna follow me around too!”

“Well, I’m not surprised. Finding out that the son of _Nathan Sheer_ also works for Memoirs? I’d follow you around everywhere.” She winked.

Roman turned red, fumbled around with his phone.

“Anyway, I just wanted to say hi, and also give you these.” She handed him some vanilla folders. “Tell Rodell to update me on the current clientele, by the way. He’s kinda late on it.”

Roman almost dropped the folders. “W-will do!”

He watched as Harley skipped off. Smiled a little at her energy.

Then froze again when he realized he was being recorded.

He waved.

-

Seven and Eight fighting wasn’t enough to warrant One standing up. It wasn’t enough to warrant much. Sooner or later, Three would come in and beak them up, or Ten would try to convince Seven to walk away.

Sometimes Five randomly joined in.

And Four would always watch from a distance, usually with food in hand.

But Three wasn’t here, and by the sounds of it, Ten wasn’t succeeding in stopping anything.

One walked over to the door and peered out. “What’s going on? Five, what are you doing?”

Five got off from her desk. “I was trying to get a good view. Gotta Snapchat this.”

“Seven, stop,” One said.

“Me? Tell him to stop!”

“Eight, stop,” One said.

Eight clenched his teeth, not risking lashing out at One.

Four came from the lunchroom, bag of Cheetos in hand.

“I can hear you both from in here. Be quiet.”

“But—”

One closed the door.

Four opened his bag of Cheetos. “Now that she’s gone…Fight.”

Ten slowly rose from his seat.

“Fight, sluts,” Five said, suddenly on top of her desk.

“The fuck you just call me?” Eight said.

“A slut.”

Ten glared at Five.

“What? I’m bored. Plus, this is some entertainment, right?” Five opened up her Snapchat and began recording. “Aaaaand action!”

“Seven, don’t,” Ten said.

Seven looked over at Ten, sighed, let her shoulders sag a bit.

Eight chuckled. “Yeah, listen to your little cuck boyfriend—”

Seven threw a punch.

As the commotion began, Six opened his drawer and pulled out his bible.

-

Three and Two were standing in front of Branson’s desk as the latter stared out his exaggerated window.

“We need the revenue, Three,” Branson said. “We need people to invest a little more of their time and attention to the company, and a way to do that, of course, is with some _entertainment._ ”

Two smirked.

Three stayed quiet.

“Curse, smoke, crack inappropriate jokes, smash something every now and then—do whatever, as long as it doesn’t cost us much, and as long as it brings in _viewers._ This is about character. Why else would I choose your department specifically? It’s small. Only eleven people, with the occasional dash of Roman Sheer. Filled with an interesting cast of characters. Perfect for people to grow attached to—to root for, to hate, to love. There _are_ some things that are out of the question, of course, and that’s all in the packet I handed out in the meeting.”

“I see…” Three said, not really sure what to make of this—what this meant for her.

“Now all the pieces fall perfectly, right? Two’s the handsome, snarky gay one; Five is the attractive, eccentric one; Ten is the stoic, mysterious one—you get the gist. Even you have your role, Three. You balance everything out.”

“I understand that. That’s not the point. I’m just a bit…” Three sighed. All just another game. “I thought it’d be something more serious.”

“It’s not. It _can_ be, from time to time, but for the most part, it’s comedy. If this documentary cared about what the company actually stands for, what it _does,_ then it would be following around our Necrology department.”

“…How do we ensure views?” Three asked.

“Just act like yourselves. We’ll see how it fares in the next few weeks. We can make changes as we go along.”

Three kept a steady gaze on Branson, not sure what to say next.

Branson shared a look with Two.

“Let’s go, Three,” Two said. “The kids are waiting, unless they’ve all killed each other already.”

Three ran a hand through her dreadlocks and sighed. “Fine.”

-

Roman walked over to Ten’s office, wondering why neither of them had texted back. They usually do, considering they rarely _do_ much of anything. He had held off for a while, wondering if maybe they were in a meeting, or presentation, but it was almost time to leave anyway, so he figured to stop by a little earlier than—

“Oh my god!”

Ten walked over to him. “You shouldn’t be here. You don’t want to be collateral damage.”

“What happened?”

Seven and Eight were fighting on the floor. Five was standing on her desk, recording the whole thing. Four was watching while eating. Six was reading his bible. Nine was still asleep. One was nowhere to be found.

“Just stay here, okay?” Ten left Roman and walked toward the ball of mass that was Seven and Eight. “Come on, Seven, just…let’s just go, alright? We can leave a little early.”

Seven contemplated it, but then Eight spit on her hand.

“You fucking nasty ass piece of shit!”

Four cheered them on.

One peered out once more. She sighed, simply staring at them with mild disappointment.

“Hey, One,” Roman said.

“Oh. Hello, Roman.”

“You wanna join our study group?”

One gave him a small smile. “I’ll have to see.”

Roman smiled back, nodded.

“Do you guys think I should jump in? Like literally?” Five asked.

Suddenly, Seven and Eight separated and stood up, both on opposite ends of the room.

“Oh wow…how disappointing,” Five said.

“I don’t need you to break my back, thanks,” said Seven, locating the hand sanitation dispenser.

“Seven, let’s go,” Ten said.

“Nasty,” she muttered, dousing her hands in hand sanitizer.

“Off to fuck your boyfriends, huh? Why don’tcha leave some room for me—”

Seven groaned. “No one fucking likes you, Eight. _Maldito cabrón._ ”

There was a sudden dramatic tisking in the room, which of course belonged to—

“We leave you alone for two seconds…”

Three walked forward, looked around, saw Five standing on the desk, Four’s Cheeto-covered fingers, Seven and Eight’s untidy clothing. “Seriously?”

Everyone stayed quiet. Four walked over to the back, seemingly going to enter the other office, even though One was still in the doorway.

Three sighed, shaking her head. “Seven, Five…you two were right. It’s entertainment.”

Five brushed some of her hair behind her shoulder. “Then I got this in the bag, baby.”

“So, I’m not in trouble then…Because it was all for the cameras!” Seven lied, making a jazzy hand gesture.

“Was it?”

She stopped. “…Perhaps.”

“It’s fine, Seven. We all know physical attacks against Eight are constitutional and perfectly legal in this space,” Two said.

“How could I forget?”

“Fuck you both.”

Three ignored them and began to walk towards her office. “Whatever. It’s the end of the day, anyway, tomorrow we’re going to plan the Eisner party, so be ready with materials and—”

A sharp bell rang throughout the room.

Roman screamed and held on to Ten’s arm.

Everyone stared at him before they fixed their stare at Four.

Three exhaled. “ _Why_?”  

Four took his hand away from the fire alarm, giving everyone a shit eating smile. “I’ve always wanted to do that, and now I have an excuse.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there you go. Hopefully this wasn’t too bad. :)))


End file.
